A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words
by readingsloth
Summary: "Silent videos of Kai's mother shimmered from picture frames by the door, sometimes paired with flashes of Kai growing up, and sometimes all three of them together.", Scarlet pg. fifty. - The story of a life told through pictures hanging in an office.


Hey there everybody! I'm SO SO SO sorry that it's been so long, I just needed to take some time for myself and to work on some other stuff, but I'm back! I missed you guys, and fanfic in general, like crazy, and I want to thank you all for not completely giving up on me and my writing ;).

This is an idea I've had since I read Scarlet, but I never had the time or gumption to get it done, but now that Winter's finally been released (it was so good!) I thought I'd give it a try. Don't worry, for all you guys who haven't finished the book, there aren't really any spoilers.

Once again a HUGE thank you to my beta reader, Beckah (Oak_Leaf on AO3) for both the title and for editing this mess :). Read and enjoy, and don't forget to like, comment, and follow! Thanks!

readingsloth 

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"Silent videos of Kai's mother shimmered from picture frames by the door, sometimes paired with flashes of Kai growing up, and sometimes all three of them together.", Scarlet pg. fifty.

There were holographic picture frames all over the office.

When they were first hung on the elaborately decorated office walls, they showed mostly pictures of a young child. A boy.

He had dark messy hair that hung in front of his deep brown eyes, and a smile just like his mother's. She was in the pictures too, wearing everything from stunning gowns to pajamas, always looking beautiful and composed. The way she gazes at her son with unending love and patience gives her an aura of kindness very much deserved.

As time goes on the pictures change.

The boy continues to grow older, to change, his face becoming longer and handsome. He gets taller. The woman, his mother, is frozen. She is not in the new pictures. She does not change. Her skin never knows wrinkles, her hair never becomes white.

Some of the photos contain a man too, the boys father, smiling and laughing, but then somber and serious. Eventually he becomes frozen too. The only one that remains current is the boy.

Soon there are less pictures of him as a young child, although the woman and man are still present in the occasional image. The boy is a young man now, and while his features are still recognizable, and his hair is still a dark mess, he does not hold onto the boyishness of childhood.

Eventually another figure becomes common on the walls. A young woman. In most of the pictures it is the two of them together, the young man with his arms around the young woman. He is smiling again, and while she wears no makeup, the way he looks at her makes her seem flawless. The young man's favorite is the one where she stands alone, arms folded across her chest, metal hand glinting in the light, standing in front of a complex looking system of machinery, holding a pair of wire cutters. It is a candid photo, one the subject did not realize was being taken, and her mouth is open, in the middle of saying something. Soon another image replaces that one on the desk. An image of the young woman and man together in fine wedding clothes, hands intertwined and foreheads pressed together.

In one picture the young man and woman stand with a small group of seven other people, ranging from a curvy redhead to a young brunette man with glowing eyes and a disarming smile to an android with bright blue braids. They are in a city that most would only recognize from photographs, with glowing white buildings and a large black lake. All of them radiate a sense of happiness and peace that the young man had seldom known since his childhood ended.

There are hardly any pictures of the young couple that would identify them as royalty. They spend too much time on their jobs to hang pictures of it on their walls as well.

The curvy redhead appears in another photo, with her husband, a big burly man, and the young man and woman. The redhead is holding a baby, also with shocking scarlet hair. The young man's godson.

A few years later another child joins the queue and traces of her are present in almost every image. The young man and woman have taken on new names, mother and father, and the way they look at their daughter mirrors the look on the child's grandmother when looking at her own son from all those years ago.

The daughter has her father's eyes and her mother's delicate smile, and she is shockingly beautiful. At least that's what the young man thinks.

In one picture she shrieks with laughter as her father tickles her. In another, she tries to hand her mother a screw driver that is much too big for the child's tiny hands.

Slowly the young girl starts to grow, but she is still clearly a toddler when she is joined in the pictures by a young boy, her brother. He is the opposite of his sister, with his mother's eyes and father's hair.

The photo of the young couple from their wedding that sits in a place of honor on the desk is joined by an image of the four of them, right after their son was born. The woman looks exhausted, her face sweaty, hair hanging out of her pony tail, but, despite that, both she and her husband have radiant smiles on their faces. She holds the baby tightly wrapped in blankets while the man brings his daughter to sit on the bed and gently whispers something in her ear, all three of them staring in wonder down at the new addition.

Although the boy's life has changed dramatically, moving from a boy to a young man to a father, there is still one photo that remains untouched. In it his mother and father, the grandparents his children will never meet, the in-laws his wife will never know, peacefully look out at the room, gazes drifting across all the pictures and loved ones they contain, across the stuffed animals that sit on the couch, across the papers and netscreens and unorganized office supplies, to rest on the boy, the young man, the father. He catches their eyes from his place at his desk and smiles wistfully at their frozen expressions before he stands up and leaves the room, returning from the world of photographs to embrace the real thing.

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What did you guys think? Be sure to let me know in comments/reviews. I read and appreciate all of them! I don't know when I'm going to be getting back to Wait...What?!, but I do have a few other one shots planned for various ships, so we'll see... Thanks!

readingsloth


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